I'm legit trying so hard to not go batshit crazy on someone who I call a "friend."
Ugh. Send help and a therapist.

****

"That's what you get, it's what you get, it's what you get!"
Mitch screamed at the man as he repeatedly stabbed him with a kitchen knife. The man died minutes before, but Mitch continued plunging the knife into his destroyed body.

Mitch was sobbing and sobbing, his hair a mess and his clothes and arms covered in blood.

Mitch dropped the knife onto his body and stood up: using the part of his arm that wasn't smeared with blood to wipe his nose.
"Burn in hell." Mitch mumbled. Spitting on him before turning around and walking toward Scott who was leaning against the brick wall which was covered by a shadow.

"Better?" Scott asked in a deep voice. Mitch sighed before nodding. Scott held his hand out, not caring about the murder on Mitch's hands.

Mitch took his hand and stepped into the shadow with him. Scott then pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on Mitch's head before yelling out:

"Mario! Clean this mess..." The black van that was a few feet away from them began pouring out with men in suits.
They began deep cleaning the entire scene. They scrubbed every inch of the walls and floors, not saying a word.

The demolished body was collected by two men in rubber gear and they carried him into the other van where the body was completely burned into ashes.

"Sir, the van is ready to take you home." One of the men in suits said with his hands behind his back.

Scott have him a nod, pulled away from Mitch and began walking toward the car, still holding his hand though.

Scott noticed Avi was standing with a questionable eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. Scott gently pushed Mitch ahead of him.

"I'll be there in a minute, Rose." Scott said quietly. Mitch nodded and a small smile crept on his mouth at the nickname Scott had been calling him for years.

Scott walking over to Avi, who was also wearing a suit, as usual. Scott was simply a black tight fit dress shirt and pants, his dress shoes a little scuffed at the tips.

"What did the guy do?" Avi asked. Scott  ran a hand through his hair before answering.

"The man sent some nasty texts toward Alice." Scott replied. Avi nodded and wrote down on his notepad, checking off a number next to it.

"Get back home now, Kaplan. I'm sure your wife wants you back now." Scott ordered. Avi gave a grateful smile. "Thank you, Sir." Scott nodded before turning toward the van.

He opened the door and got inside, sitting in the back on the far left side, Mitch in the middle seat so he could sit closer to Scott.

"Number forty." Scott said as he wrapped his arms around Mitch. Mitch wrapped his arms around Scotts waist from the side.

Two men sat in the middle row with guns and two women sat in the front with glasses on.

"I've gotten blood on your suit." Mitch said. Scott scoffed slightly. "You got blood everywhere, Rose. This was a messy one."
Scott kissed Mitch's head.

"Good job." Scott added. Mitch smiled at himself.

He killed a lot, so did Scott.

Why?

Because that's what they did. Scott was powerful, very powerful. He had an entire corporation under his toes and thousands of people wrapped around his finger.
He killed people who made him angry. He killed people who made Mitch anger. He killed people when he needed to, when he wanted to.

He killed people who hurt his family.

He killed people all the time. 

And Mitch killed people with him.

They met when they were seven. They were both always psychopathic at the young age, but they hid it well.
They were best friends, they were normal. Well, on the outside at least.

They were your average high schoolers, they did plays, sung in choir, volunteered at games and school activists.

They were able to let out their inner crazy in different ways. Scott joined the American football team, he could knock people down. He could hurt them.

Mitch was in art, he would paint brutal pictures that nobody found weird. He would splatter red paint all over an object. To him, it was his imaginary murder scene. To everyone else, it was a red blob.

That very first person they ever killed was John Grider. Kirstin Maldonado's ex boyfriend.

He hurt her.
He sexually assaulted her. When she confessed about it, the two boys grew infuriated, stormed to his house, a killed him.

They kept going from there.

Only when they needed to. Only when the person did something wrong.

But never in a million years would they Kirstie. Or eachother. 

They kill for eachother. But not eachother.

"I'm so in love with you." Scott said after they began driving. Mitch smiled and leaned up to give a kiss to Scott's jaw.

"I'm in love with you too." Mitch replied. "You are, aren't you?" Scott tried. Mitch smiled and nodded.

"Would you kill for me?" Scott asked.

Mitch smirked and closed his eyes.
"I already have."

***